


The Dog Days Are Over

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Negan/Rick fics [21]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Rick Grimes, Bisexual Rosita Espinosa, Carl Lives, Domestic, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Jailbird Negan, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Old Man Negan, Old Man Rick Grimes, Pansexual Negan (Walking Dead), Regan Week, Regan Week 2018, Romance, Sharing a Bed, prison Negan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 17:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15756846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: Hair cuts can mean a lot of things. A symbol for change, something fresh and new – signs that you’ve unfortunately had head lice and you’ve had enough.





	The Dog Days Are Over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hatterized](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/gifts).



> I briefly mentioned this to @hatterized because we noticed everyone is getting a haircut and we have our theories on why Negan’s haircut is oh so similar to Rick’s. Also, if it wasn’t obvious enough, Florence and the Machine's song is inspiration for the fic and the title. A lot of the events for the head lice is inspired by my own experience with them this past summer, but take every remedy offered with a grain of salt. The Nix is a sure-fire way, but there can be a developed immunity. I really would recommend the mouth wash method first. Also, it seems like a lot of superfluous bullshit as far as minor details, but that’s just the way I write. Sorry!

When school was let out for the rest of the day, Judith raced down the peeling white painted porch steps of Mrs. Corin’s house ahead of the other children and made a beeline for her own house. Her faded Dora the Explorer backpack bounced heavily on her back as she took a shortcut through the tomato patch to get to her house. She saw Michonne, Daryl, Aaron, and a few others going through and weeding the tomato patch. As she ran by them, she waved her hand, and they paused in their work to look up at her passing. They shielded their eyes with one gloved hand, smearing dirt across their sweaty foreheads, and waved back with their own hand clutching a trowel or spade or what other garden instrument.  

“Hey Momma! Hey Aaron! Hey Daryl”

“Hey, Jude!” Michonne and Aaron chimed together, and Judith didn’t know why they always laughed after they did that.

Dashing up the front porch steps, she nearly slammed into the pale, daisy yellow front door in her rush to get inside. Once inside, she didn’t even bother taking off her shoes and tossed her backpack on the kitchen table on her way to the fridge.

Just like she did every day after school, Judith started making two sandwiches. Her sandwich had the crust peeled off – not cut off – by hand. His sandwich had toasted bread that she popped in the toaster oven after she carefully cut it from the loaf. Her sandwich had leftover chicken from dinner that she took from the fridge, with homemade ranch and ketchup. He always snickered at her choice of sandwiches, but he was always happy for whatever she made him so long as the bread was toasted. “It’s so when you put the condiments on it the bread won’t get soggy,” he had explained to her once. Usually, Judith made him peanut butter and jelly – or jam, if they didn’t have any jelly. Today, though, she took the leftover bacon and fried egg from breakfast and put in between his two golden brown slices of toasted bread, and then added a slice of tomato and lettuce. Absolutely no pickles, no mustard.

After carefully wrapping the two sandwiches in a dishcloth, and placing them in her backpack alongside two bottles of water, Judith grabbed a ziplocked bag of homemade potato chips from Sanctuary and two apples as well before she left. She left her house with a slam of the front door and jumped off the porch steps. Heading for the little house in the distance, Judith was almost there when her dad and Carl rode in on their horses and cut her off.

“Judith!” Rick swung off his horse, surprisingly nimble for an older man. Carl stayed up on his high horse. “Where are you off to in such a hurry, sweetheart?”

Needlessly adjusting the straps on her backpack, Judith shook her head. “Nowhere, Daddy.” She dared to peek up at her brother who was watching her knowingly with his one eye on top of his white horse, Bunny. When he caught her looking, he slowly shook his head at her, and while the movement made his ponytail swish, the bangs in front of his bad eye barely moved. Looking back at her father, she saw that Rick was studying her, thoughtfully, considering.

“Mhm,” he finally hummed, and shifted his weight to the other foot. His short, curly ponytail bounced as he jerked his chin to somewhere behind her, and Judith flicked her long, blonde hair behind her shoulder when something prickled at her scalp. “Mom, Daryl, and Aaron saw you passing by in the tomato garden. Are you gonna go help them today?”

“Uh huh.” Judith scraped the toe of her shoe through the dirt. They were still twinkling from her running. “I will.”

Hands on his hips, Rick tilted his head at her. Judith tilted her head the opposite way, unmoving. “Okay, Judy. Be careful now.” Finally, Rick turned away and swung a leg back up on his horse, a brown stallion named Buttons. “We’re having salad tonight, okay?” Not unusual for their late summer meal, to eat what produce that would spoil quickly – and no meat either since that was usually a luxury with their chickens, and trapping and hunting lately had been slim.

But Judith didn’t care about any of that. Masking her impatience, she chirped, “Okay, Daddy.” She watched Rick and Carl walk their horses away towards the stables. “Bye-bye!”

Once they had turned a corner down the street, Judith sprinted inside and flew down the steps into the basement. Her light-up sneakers barely glowed in the darkness before she switched on the light switch, too scared even with the sunshine pouring in through the window in Negan’s cell.

“Hi, Negan. Sorry I’m late. Daddy was telling me about dinner.” Judith pushed the chair up to the bars and pulled off her backpack again. She passed Negan his sandwich, water bottle, and apple before she settled back in the rickety chair to eat hers, feet swinging in the air.

“It’s okay, angel.” Negan reverently peeled away the dishcloth to reveal his sandwich and took a big bite. “Mm, this is good. I haven’t had bacon in years.”

“Lots of people say stuff like that. Daddy does a lot.” Swallowing her bite, Judith blithely moved on in the way a single-minded child does. “So today Mrs. Corin told us that we’re gonna have a festival.”

“A festival?” Negan’s voice was low, almost scary (well definitely scary the first few times), but at least with the lights on she could see his face, his beard big and bushy like her father’s and his hair long, wild, and unkempt.

“Yeah, we’re gonna have a big owl!” Judith flicked her hair again, and then offered Negan some of the chips. He shook his head, and she shrugged and ate a handful for herself.

“Well, my invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”

“What’s a, uh, invitation?”

“Don’t worry about it, angel. That festival sounds cool. You’ll just have to go for me and tell me all about it.”

“Oh, I will.” She vigorously nodded, and then continued on about her day. Judith didn’t think it was odd to share lunch with Negan. He wasn’t that scary, he only looked like it. But he was funny and he always listened – not even Carl or Daddy did that – and he couldn’t hurt her.

Like she did every day before she left, she took the garbage and put it in her backpack, and she reached through the bars and hugged Negan goodbye. It always hurt a little doing that because of how the metal pressed against her ribs and made it hard to breathe, but she could tell every time that he needed the hug, so she did it. She waved goodbye and left, not leaving a trace behind that she was ever there, chair moved back against the wall and the lights switched off.

Then she went to work in the tomato patch with her mom before having dinner that night and going to bed. Rick read her a bedtime story, and gave both her and Mr. Sunshine the lion a kiss goodnight on the forehead before she went to sleep.

And she barely noticed how itchy her scalp was, even after she had a bath.

* * *

 

It was after he tucked Judith in that Rick went to feed Negan. Passing by Carl in his room, reading comics, Rick made a small salad using the leftovers from dinner for Negan, and an extra blanket since they expected it to be cool tonight with the approaching morning frost of autumn. Once he had done that, he settled in to wait for Negan to finish eating so he could wash the dishes and go to bed.

“How was your visit with Judy today?”

“Pretty good, Rick.” Negan gratefully looped the blanket over his shoulders like a cape, catching a whiff of Rick’s house with it. He didn’t know how to describe it, except that it smelled clean and warm and loved. It made him feel lonely. “She told me about school. Her favorite part is drawing. And she knows the months of the year now in order and how many days are in each, even though that doesn’t fucking matter anymore.”

Trying not to stare too closely at how Negan clutched the blanket in front of his chest, gratefully snuggling into it, Rick focused his gaze on his boots. “Did she sing it for you, too? Thirty days have September…”

“April, June, and November, yeah.” Pushing around his cucumbers and tomatoes, Negan avoided Rick’s eyes at first. He was definitely different from before. Not as loud – mainly from the throat injury – but his personality was less…less of a show. Rick sometimes wondered if this was from age or confinement, or if he was finally seeing the real Negan. Sometimes he had his days where Rick saw the old fiery spirit, and he missed that. But, he and Negan were both old men now, doubtlessly. They could do with a little normalcy.

“Say, what month do you think it is now, Ricky boy?” Negan looked up and smiled at him – none of the mean, artificial smiles from before, but a smile that one would give to an old friend. “Judith told me she had to go help her momma in the tomato patch. You jarring that stuff up for the fucking winter? I have a killer recipe for spaghetti, you know.”

Rolling his eyes, not having the heart to tell Negan that spaghetti gave him heartburn, Rick mused, “It’s still early in the tomato season. I’d say it’s late August.”

“Hot as shit days, but cold, cold nights.” Negan pulled the blanket around over his lap, tucking it under his legs and smoothing out the wrinkles. “The nights are colder when you’re alone, Rick. Unless…you’re not alone.”

Rick shifted in his rickety, wooden chair, and Negan refocused on his dinner again. “I am alone. Michonne’s been…we parted ways almost a year ago. You know that.”

“I do.” Negan took a bite of his salad, subdued. “I know why, too.”

These evening meals with Rick were the only ones they could really talk. In the mornings, Rick was busy, so he usually dropped off something simple, and Rick had stopped bringing him lunch since Judith did it now – secretly, she thought. Rick didn’t try to stop her anymore, and he only let her have it as a secret because he’d rather she go see Negan than try to climb the walls to the outside.

But these evening meals before bed were the talks were both men felt like the outside world melted away, and they could ignore the fact that they were peering through cold, metal bars to see each other. This had been a two-year tradition – rarely broken. Occasionally, Negan would snap and act like an ass because he was a little stir-crazy, and sometimes Rick would be cold and distant on the days where Glenn’s, Abraham’s, Sasha’s, and Eric’s deaths weighed heavily on him. But for the most part, they’ve grown close, confiding in only each other.

And Negan could almost pretend that he and Rick were about to climb into bed together to sleep when they talked quietly like this.

And Rick could almost believe that Judith saw Negan as another father than a weird pet, just like Rick sometimes looked at Negan as someone he loved instead of his prisoner from war.

* * *

 

When Rick Grimes woke up the next morning, he at first didn’t notice that anything was amiss. He beat the late, late summer sun getting up and threw on his clothes before shaking Carl awake so he could grab a shower. Scratching behind his ear, half-asleep, Rick went to the kitchen and made some oatmeal and eggs for their breakfast. He was nearly done scrambling an egg for Judith when he heard her bare feet slapping loudly on the tiled floor. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Judith with mussed up hair climbing into her chair at the kitchen table expectantly with Mr. Sunshine clutched to her side. Turning back to the scrambled eggs with a smile, Rick had a feeling that today was going to be a good day.

By the time Carl finished with his shower, breakfast was ready and the Grimes family sat down to eat. It was quiet, but Rick enjoyed the quiet as they ate, Judith still fighting sleep and Carl decidedly not a morning a person even after his shower. Rick was just raising his fork to his mouth for the last bite of fried egg when Judith huffed and threw down her spoon in her bowl of oatmeal. He was about to chastise her for splattering it across the table when he watched as she raised both hands to her head and viciously scratched all over her scalp, tossing her long blonde hair as she did so. When she caught him looking, Judith turned her open, honest face to him and chirped almost perkily, “Bug bites!”

Three seconds passed.

A memory came to mind.

_Carl had just come home from his first day at Mother’s Morning Out. Lori hadn’t even spent the morning out, choosing instead to sit just outside the nursery at the church, beside herself on what to do. She had called Rick from the phone at the church, nearly on the verge of tears, but Rick told her to just give it a chance so that Carl could make some friends; and if she just sat outside, that was fine, it was progress. Carl hadn’t even cried at all, but Lori’s eyes were red and puffy when they got home. Rick remembers Lori’s silver minivan pulling up the driveway, and as soon as she had unbuckled Carl from his car seat, he had eagerly ran up the driveway to Rick’s cop car. Just before he jumped into Rick’s waiting arms – and before Rick could ask if he had fun and had made any friends at Mother’s Morning Out – Carl suddenly had stopped and scratched his head all over, and when Rick had cocked his head in confusion, Carl had helpfully supplied with a bright, toothy smile, “Bug bites!”_

Blinking away the memory, Rick narrowed his eyes at Judith. “Sweetie, come here.”

Sliding out of her seat, Judith came to Rick’s side, unquestioning. She still had a hand in her hair, and Rick could hear her scratching insistently. By now, Carl had also lowered his spoon back into his bowl of oatmeal and watched wordlessly, a frown on his face, his one eye concerned.

Carefully, using his softest voice, Rick managed to coax Judith to turn around and flip her hair over so he could see. He was prepared to grab his fork and use the handle to push her hair out of the way so he could look, but he hadn’t even needed to because he could visibly see the fat, white bugs crawling through her hair.

“Shit.”

“What is it, Dad?”

Sighing, Rick pushed away from the kitchen table. “Head lice.”

Understanding dawned on Carl as he glanced between Judith and his father. Slowly, he scratched at his own scalp. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Rick’s mind starting racing, trying to remember all the little cures for head lice he and Lori had researched for Carl – and also wondering how far the head lice could’ve spread. Something like this could be something that just doesn’t go away. “Oh.”

* * *

 

Everything else in Alexandria was put on hold as all houses were screened for head lice. Luckily, they had caught this early – and it was only the few children in Alexandria and their families that had it. The Grimes’ household, Aaron’s house (probably from close proximity to Judith in the tomato garden), Mrs. Corin’s house, and the three other children’s houses were stripped down. All their sheets, towels, blankets, clothes were shoved in black garbage bags and left out on their porches and would stay there for at least a week. The head lice would suffocate and starve, and if not that, then surely the heat would kill them.

A group was sent out on a run to find new clothes and whatever they could find to kill head lice. Rick remembered that mayonnaise was something he and Lori had tried, so currently he, Carl, and Judith were sporting mayonnaise-lathered hair as they finally cleaned up the kitchen after breakfast. “It stinks, Daddy,” Judith complained, and when Rick looked at her, he could see her bottom lip start to wobble. Carl had explained to her the head lice, and she was very, very upset; she felt like it was all her fault.

Crouching down so that he was at eye-level with her, Rick patiently explained, “I know it does, Judy, but this is how we kill the bugs.” Using his thumb, he swept away a stray bit of mayonnaise on her forehead before it could drip down in her eyes. “You don’t want to be itchy anymore, do you, Judy?”

“No.” She pouted, and Rick just wished that something like this could be so easy to fix as it was before.

“Then we gotta do it, Judy, just for a little longer. We’ll wash it out soon, okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay.” She heaved a sigh, and then stomped up the stairs to her room.

Standing back up, Rick sighed and put a hand on his lower back. It ached from him crouching for too long. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

 

The mayonnaise did not work. They had washed out their hair in the kitchen sink, but Rick could tell when he looked through Judith’s hair that it didn’t work at all. Dimly, he remembered that it hadn’t worked before either, but it was a little late for that. Looking between his two children, Rick shrugged. “Time for a haircut, I guess.”

Crossing his arms, Carl huffed, “What?”

“Do you remember Nana? She was on your mom’s side, and she told us that if we just cut your hair and burned it, it would’ve worked fine.”

Raising an eyebrow in a way that was too much like his mother, Carl asked, “You sure that’s gonna work? Like the mayonnaise?”

“No,” Rick honestly admitted, “but we all have too much hair to sort through and clean properly. It’s time for a change.”

Shrugging, Carl loped outside, and Rick thought he would never be used to how much he has grown up like a weed until he was almost taller than him. “Fine. We’ll try it.”

He was a little surprised that Carl hadn’t protested more since the last time he got his haircut it was from…from Lori. But it was like Rick had said. It was time for a change.

* * *

 

They had asked their neighbor Rodrigo to give them all their haircuts since Rick knew he used to be a stylist. They sat out on their porch, trying not to accidentally jostle the porch swing, and Rick and Carl felt a little too country since their shirts were currently soaking in hot, bleach water. Judith was the only one who was genuinely excited for her hair cut, and Rodrigo gave her a cute little bob – though Rick had to elbow Carl to hold in the comment he was about to make comparing her to Dora the Explorer. For Rick, his curls were cropped closer to his head, but Rodrigo said he wouldn’t have to completely shave his beard since head lice didn’t care for that kind of hair. Carl was the one with the most dramatic cut as Rodrigo gave him something was in the current fashion from before – and Rick could see how much Carl had grown from the bowl cut he remembered from fourth grade.

Rubbing at his scalp since his hair was short again – almost as short as it was when he was a sheriff’s deputy – Rick was wondering when the run crew would come back.

“Y’know, I used to recommend soaking your head in Listerine mouthwash,” Rodrigo offered. His hair was clumped and styled with hair gel so thick that the head lice wouldn’t be able to penetrate, and Rick felt just a bit jealous. “Just throw a plastic bag – a grocery bag – on your head, too, and those little _pendejos_ will choke.”

“Thank you, Rodrigo.”

“ _De nada_ , Rick.”

* * *

 

The excess hair was swept up and then they dumped it a fire pit they had in the back yard to burn. While Carl went back inside because the smell of burning hair was gross, Judith thought that part was really fun, and she kept asking for more things to feed into the flames. It reminded Rick of old camping trips with smores and hotdogs. He and Lori had always wanted to take a long road trip with pit stops at camping grounds rather than paying for overpriced, filthy motels. Still, it was something they had put off until Carl would be older and more appreciative of seeing something like the Grand Canyon or going up to the Appalachian Mountains.

Letting the fire die down on its own once it was small enough again, Rick ushered Judith away, back inside. “I promise, Jude. When the nights get colder and there are less mosquitoes, we’ll have a bonfire and invite everybody.”

“Everybody?” She wondered, and when she pinned him with those eyes, Rick knew he couldn’t say no.

“Yes, sweetheart, I promise. The whole neighborhood. Everyone in Alexandria. It’ll be another big party – but only after we have the festival, okay? Pinky promise?” He held out his finger.

Hooking her pinky to his, Judith smiled. “Pinky promise, Daddy.”

“Come on, I’ll make you some lunch.” He beelined to the kitchen, grateful that the house was much cooler than it had been by the firepit. He expected to hear Judith’s little footsteps behind him, but when he pulled his head from the fridge, he didn’t see her. He could hear water running through the pipes, telling him that even though Carl was warned that regular shampoo wouldn’t work, Carl was taking another shower, though that was probably more to get off any stray hairs from the haircut. But Judith – he didn’t know where she would go. “Judy?”

Suddenly, Rick heard her thundering down the stairs like a rhino and then she was running up to him with Mr. Sunshine clutched in her hands. “Mr. Sunshine has head lice, too! His mane needs a haircut, Daddy, please! Can Mr. Sanchez give him one?”

Blinking at Mr. Sunshine’s balding mane crawling with head lice, Rick shook his head. “I don’t think he needs a haircut, Judy,” he cautiously started, not wanting to trigger a tantrum out of her, “but I think a regular bath will do fine.”

Judith followed Rick outside where Mr. Sunshine was given a vigorous bath that might as well have been a new baptism. When Carl wandered outside after his third shower for the day to see where they gotten to, his lips twitched as he fought off a smile at his sister’s insistence that Mr. Sunshine get another bath.

“Carl,” Rick asked while he was up to his elbows in soap bubbles, currently drowning Mr. Sunshine in scalding hot water and Dawn, “will you go inside and get the mouthwash and a couple of grocery bags?”

“Is this another homemade remedy?” Carl scratched behind his ear and frowned. His hair was still wet, and he had styled it with his fingers since they had thrown away all of their old hairbrushes and combs. Michonne had promised, though, that she would come back with new ones.  

“Yup. Rodrigo suggested this one.”

Typical as any teenager, Carl rolled his eyes. “Whatever. At least Rodrigo is an actual hair stylist.” Still, he went back inside for the mouthwash and grocery bags.

Tapping at Rick’s shoulder, Judith directed his attention back to the stuffed animal. “Daddy, Mr. Sunshine can’t breathe.”

* * *

 

After his tenth waterboarding, Judith looked over her sodden Mr. Sunshine and decided that he was finally clean, and when Rick looked him over, too, he decided he was good enough. Mr. Sunshine got his own black garbage bag, which at first distressed Judith, but Rick convinced her that he just needed time to rest, and then he’d be fine. Then it was time to try Rodrigo’s remedy.

This time when Rick dumped mouthwash on Carl’s and Judith’s heads, he wasn’t met with complaints like he was with the mayonnaise. Judith, in fact, mostly ignored Rick and colored flowers on the sidewalk with chalk while he made sure to slick her short curls to the scalp, careful to keep it out of her eyes. Carl played with his sister, and Rick did, too, after he used the last of the mouthwash on his hair. The plastic bags finished off the look and made them feel a little ridiculous, but they tried to just ignore it while they followed Judith’s strict instructions about her flower mural.

By the time Judith was satisfied, the six sidewalk squares in front of their house were covered with dusty red roses, meticulously colored in blue and purple violets, bright yellow sunflowers, and orange tiger lilies that quickly became daisies because Judith’s favorite color was orange, and she switched the shape of the flower petals midway through from spiky ends to round ones. When Rick peeled away the grocery bags, he was heartened to see head lice corpses falling out, too. However, when he sorted through Judith’s almost dry curls, he could still see the little white flecks.

Sighing, Rick looked over at Carl and shrugged apologetically. “It almost worked.”

Already heading inside for his fourth shower of the day, Carl called back over his shoulder, “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see what Mom brings back.”

* * *

 

Michonne, Daryl, Tara, and Rosita didn’t come back until just past sundown. They went from door to door, dropping off new clothes, hairbrushes, and finally head lice killing shampoo.

“It’s called Nix,” Michonne explained as she passed the bottle over. Too keep the contamination down, she and the others waiting in the yard and below the porch where Rick was leaning against the railing. The children were waiting inside, eating dinner.

Snorting, Rick shook his head, briefly scanning the instructions in the weak light of the moon. “Clever.”

“Yeah, it really is,” Tara spoke up. When Rick glanced up at her, she bashfully shoved her hands in her jacket pocket. “Y’know, nix like x-nay, like no more and all that crap. But nits are baby head lice.” She pressed her lips together, barely masking a tremble in her lower lip before she added in a quiet voice, “My niece got head lice once from school, and my sister went crazy looking up everything about it.”

Rosita placed a comforting hand on Tara’s shoulder, squeezing rhythmically. “Yeah, I think a lot of kids do. My nephew got it from his day care – and I got it when I was little, too. Not an experience I want to repeat.” Using the grip she had on Tara, she guided her closer into a one-armed hug. “My nephew’s name was Rogelio – but we called him Rojo. He was six.”

“Yeah, I can’t remember how old Meghan was.” Tara scoffed out a laugh. “I’m a terrible aunt.”

While Rosita drew Tara in for a full hug, Rick looked back down at Michonne. She was already staring at him, her eyes heavy with grief, and Rick felt terrible that he could only nod at her from his porch instead of giving her a hug. Once before, he had wanted things to work out between them – and for a while, they had that, a lot like Tara and Rosita now. Shared trauma. Bonding on the road out under the stars and on runs together. Raising Carl and Judith. Even though it didn’t work between them, his children would always call her ‘Mom’, and he knew he could rely on her.

In this moment, though, he knew she was thinking about her own lost son. Andre never even had the chance to catch something like head lice. It wasn’t a mercy.

After the heavy moment had passed, Daryl broke the silence. “Ain’t never got no head lice.” He shifted his feet when all eyes turned to him, his long, greasy hair shielding his eyes. “Never went to no daycare. Me and Merle skipped school a lot. Never got head lice.”

Punching Daryl’s arm, Rosita teased in her own way, “ _Piojos_ don’t like dirty hair; that’s why.”

“Actually, that’s a myth,” Tara corrected, her tears already wiped away. “Clean or dirty, it doesn’t make a difference to them. As long as it’s human hair.”

“Guess Daryl is more likely to get fleas,” Rosita quipped.

Daryl shoved her away. “ _Puta_.”

“We’re gonna need to work on your Spanish,” Rosita laughed. They wandered off to their own houses, playfully bickering to themselves and bantering back and forth easily.

Watching them go with a slight smile, Michonne turned back to Rick and waved goodbye. “Goodnight – and good luck.”

“Thanks.” Rick nodded appreciatively.

“Oh, and who did you have to feed Negan?” Michonne asked, already turned away.

"Shit, I knew I forgot something.”

Chuckling, Michonne offered, “Want me to handle him?”

"No, no. You’ve done enough. I’ll do it. Thanks again, Michonne.”

“Goodnight, Rick.”

* * *

 

The Nix worked just as it was supposed to – expiration date be damned. The process would have to be repeated after a week just to make sure, but Rick was confident that it would work. Carl went to bed on fresh sheets borrowed from Tara and Rosita’s place, and Judith went to bed too exhausted to ask for Mr. Sunshine. Rick considered that a victory in and of itself, and then went to the kitchen to pile a high plate of leftovers for Negan.

He felt guilty that he forgot to feed him, but he had a lot on his mind today, and to Rick it felt strange to think of Negan as a prisoner anymore. Rick could almost pretend that he was visiting Negan’s little house as he started down the stairs.

“I’m so sorry, Negan,” Rick was already apologizing, focused on balancing the plate of leftovers that had spare fruit stacked on top just in case Negan was extra hungry. When Rick finally looked up, he came to a dead stop and frowned.

Negan was sleepily pulling himself from his bed, yawning, but also scratching in that familiar way at his head. “Shit, Rick, I thought you forgot about little ol’ me.”

Rick said nothing as he passed Negan his food through the bars. He cautiously watched, waiting to see if he was being paranoid or not.

Sure enough, as Negan dug in, he kept one hand to his hair while he ate. Scratching. Scratching. Scratching.

“God damn, Rick! I’m starved!” He took a bite and scratched behind his other ear. “Also, I am fucking itchy! Did you put fucking itching powder in that blanket you gave me?”

Rick’s eyes dropped accusingly to said blanket that Negan had tangled around his legs still. Negan stroked a hand over the seemingly innocuous fabric, softened by years of washes, all the while unaware.

“I mean, damn,” Negan still continued, mouth half-full and carefully speaking from behind his hand so that he doesn’t spray crumbs in his little cell. “That would’ve been one way to make me fucking surrender to you – who the hell needs fucking small pox blankets when you have goddamn itching powder up the crack of your ass. Shit!”

“Negan,” Rick heavily sighed, “it’s not itching powder.”

“What the fuck is it then? Did you give me fleas?”

“Nope. Head lice.” Rick was too exhausted to be amused by Negan’s expression of betrayal. “To be fair, Judith gave it to you, not me. She picked it up from school. But I suppose, the blanket didn’t help things either.”

“Fuck.”

Neither one of them immediately moved into action. Negan was still ravenous, and instead of blaming Rick or bitching and moaning like Rick expected, Negan just took a bite of his apple and munched away. He was still scratching, but Rick didn’t fault him for that.

Rick, on the other hand, was wondering how to handle this. All of Negan’s clothes and bedding would need to be washed, but there wasn’t time for all that now. Clearly Negan was tired, too, since he was already in bed when Rick came down. Running a hand over his face, fingers tangling in the ends of his white beard, Rick sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time today.

“Alright, Negan. Come with me.” Rick fished the key from the wall where it hung every day, and unlocked Negan’s cell.

To say Negan was surprised was to say the least. He swallowed his bite of apple before setting his plate aside and untangling his legs from the blanket. “Shit, uh, I just thought you would leave me here until morning to handle.”

“Negan,” Rick almost chastised, “shut up and come with me.”

* * *

 

Guided by moonlight that was filtered through rainclouds for tomorrow, Rick led Negan to his house, though Negan remembered even after all this time where it was. No one saw them, and for that Rick was grateful because after the day he had, he was in no mood to answer questions. He was already up his porch steps when he realized he didn’t hear Negan’s footsteps following anymore. Afraid that Negan had slipped away, Rick turned around with a start – but Negan was only crouched in front of the sidewalk, examining Judith’s floral mural.

“It’s beautiful,” Negan’s voice was soft, and he didn’t touch it because he knew that tomorrow’s rain would wash it away. “You have a real artist there, Rick.” As silent as a panther, he stood and walked barefoot through the soft grass of the front yard, but not on Rick’s porch, standing just below him. The moon made his eyes soft, and caught and illuminated every strand of silver hair. “Judith’s drawings were always a spot of sunshine to have in my cell.”

Rick smiled, his voice thick with an emotion he was afraid to identify. When he could finally speak without his voice cracking, he whispered, “Wait here, and I’ll get you some clothes to sleep in.”

Because of the head lice, Rick didn’t have many options for Negan, but luckily one of his neighbors had given him a soft, red flannel that would be too big on Rick, but for Negan it would be perfect. There was an extra pair of sweatpants, too, though Rick thought they might be a little tight. Hopefully, Negan would still like them. When he brought them out to Negan, along with a garbage bag, Rick shyly asked, “Um. Strip all the way and put the clothes in here. Then you can change.”

“Good thing everyone is asleep, huh, Rick? Wouldn’t want anyone getting an eyeful.” But Negan didn’t reach for the bag or start stripping. “But what about my hair, Rick? Seems a little needless to switch clothes without handling that first.”

Rolling his eyes at himself, Rick apologized, “Sorry, I’ve just…had my mind on things.” Rick went back inside for the rest of the Nix – but thankfully, he knew Michonne had brought more for the medical supplies, just in case there was another outbreak. As a second thought, Rick crept upstairs again, careful not to wake anyone, and grabbed the electric razor. When he came back out on the porch again, he urged Negan to come up and sit down in one of the rocking chairs.

“I can put this in your hair, but I was going to ask if you’d want a haircut – just to be sure. Makes things easier, too.”

Negan’s face was cast in shadow now, but after so long as seeing Negan through the bars in his own dark cell, Rick could recognize his expression. It was thoughtful, and hungry.

“I see you trimmed away your curls, Rick.” Negan reached out a hand towards Rick’s face, but pulled it back before he could touch, remembering why he shouldn’t. “Why don’t we both match, darlin’?”

“You – you want to go that short?”

“That’s right, baby.”

Though he tried to ignore the pet names, Rick could feel the heat in his cheeks and was grateful for the cool, night air and the darkness. “Alright. I’ll try my best.”

“I have faith in you, Rick.”

For a while there was nothing but the buzz of the electric razor as Rick slowly ran his fingers through Negan’s hair and shaved it away. When it was gone, Rick dusted it off Negan’s shoulders, collecting it into the garbage bag, already deciding that after tonight Negan wouldn’t need his prison clothes anymore. He added generous proportions of the Nix, sometimes letting his fingers dip lower down Negan’s neck than needed, and if he heard Negan’s soft groans, Rick knew better than to comment. No words were needed between them.

After that was finished, Negan changed his clothes, and Rick didn’t have to look away because it was nothing he hadn’t seen before on Negan. “Full moon out tonight, huh, Rick?” Negan teased, not at all bashful.

Again, though, Rick blushed. He led Negan inside by the hand to the kitchen sink where the Nix was washed out along with all the little nits and lice, and after another check through by Rick, he was satisfied that Negan was effectively de-loused.

“Thank you, Rick.” Negan brushed past him closer than he needed to as he entered the living room. He made as if to lay down on the couch, but Rick stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“What are you doin’, Negan?”

“I seem to recall that you only have three bedrooms in this house – and they’re all taken. The couch is fine.”

“It is until Carl gets up for a drink of water and shoots you,” Rick fiercely whispered. Sliding his hand down Negan’s arm, he laced their fingers together and tugged him away from the couch. “Go to my room, and I’ll sleep here. The kids have found me here before; they won’t question it.”

This time there was no reason why Negan shouldn’t touch Rick’s face, so he did. He cupped his jaw, sliding his fingers past to curiously rub over his short hair until he cradled the back of his neck. Pressing his forehead to Rick’s, all they did was let their eyes shut and breathe in each other’s warm breath. Their noses bumped together, and their heartbeats lined up in sync with each other. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was so, so close. Neither one dared to go for it, though.

“Rick,” Negan rasped when he finally had the strength to pull away. “I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed. You invited the stray in your house, so the stray can sleep on your couch. It’s already an upgrade from the cell. And I promise, Rick, I fucking promise you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I…I didn’t think you would,” Rick admitted. He shook his head brusque, and then squeezed Negan’s hand. “Come to bed with me.”

Negan’s eyes widened, and immediately Rick backtracked.

“Not like – maybe another day. I’m too tired, but,” Rick pressed his lips together, frustrated with himself, and then pushed passed all that. “Sleep with me. Just sleep.”

With that sly smile that made Rick’s heart skip, Negan teased, “You wanna be the big spoon or the little spoon?”

Leading Negan up the stairs, one hand on the railing and the other still holding Negan’s, Rick answered quietly, “I sleep on the left side.”

In his bedroom, Rick barely looked at Negan as he grabbed the other pair of sweatpants for bed and went to his bathroom to change. When he came back out, Negan was already under the blankets on the right side of the bed, waiting. As soon as Negan saw Rick, he smiled, and there was nothing salacious about it. It was just warm, welcoming, happy. Inside his chest, Rick felt his heart lift.

Under the cover of darkness, he slid in on his side of the bed. They could hear each other breathing, knew what they were doing, but they were both still scared to push it. Neither one was sure who made the first move, but they met in the middle of the bed and searched for each other’s mouths. It was clumsy at first in their rush and since they couldn’t see that well. Negan’s mouth found Rick’s eyelid while Negan’s mouth found Negan’s throat. They readjusted with a shared, breathless laugh, and Negan pressed a quick kiss to Rick’s nose before he captured his bottom lip.

The kiss was soft and sweet, and even though they were in bed, there was never any intention behind the kiss to be just another step to something else. This was enough for them, for now.

* * *

 

The next morning, Rick cautiously introduced Negan into the kitchen, and both men were surprised when all Carl did was squint at him before he just shrugged it off. Of course, Judith was ecstatic and demanded that Negan see her floral mural before the rain could wipe it clean. She showed Negan her new haircut and said she thought his was pretty like her daddy’s. They all shared a breakfast together.

In a week, they did the Nix treatment again, and Alexandria was lice-free again.

Negan never went back to the cell, and while he stayed inside during the festival, he was the guest of honor at Judith’s first bonfire.

It was the first of many they spent together.


End file.
